The anatomy of being

Anne Linde Dejong in conversation with TEMA

Both as an artist and as a medical doctor, Anne Linde Dejong studies the human body in many ways: physiologically, anatomically, and through the lens of her analogue camera. She views photography as a very neutral tool to observe and understand the world around her. But it is also the medium through which she can take ownership of her own body, and how she can communicate her philosophical ideas. TEMA editor Viola talked to Anne Linde about how we can think differently about ‘the normal body’ and how this is reflected in her photography.

Shoulder naevus © Anne Linde Dejong

TEMA: Why photography?

Anne Linde: Photography is a very precious medium to me. It allows me to pay attention to certain details in the outside world.  I see it like a Sherlock Holmes kind of act; the camera is a tool that allows me to come closer, and makes me more alert to the world around me. By taking an image of something, I make it part of my creative process; it makes visible to the outside world which themes and feelings I carry within me. Photographing my subjects and surroundings in the style, light and composition that I choose, I try to convey a certain message or feeling. The camera is literally my tool of curiosity and a kind of ‘permission’ to ask people to come close; to nearly literally touch them. 

My quest is observing what is. In all its variations. What is a body really? What is death actually? What does it mean to have a face? By arriving at these questions, I try to understand the depth and complexity of things that are seemingly normal - things we might take for granted. This process gives me a deeper relationship to certain objects/subjects and phenomena. It makes me feel more at home in the world.”

TEMA: What does it mean to you to have a body?

Anne Linde: I really like having a body. I grew up in a very open and liberal environment, which has helped me to feel very comfortable in my own body and accept nudity as a very normal, nonsexual state. Being a doctor, I look at a nude body in a clinical way, which doesn’t mean that I can’t see the aesthetics a nude body can have. But there seems to be a line between anatomical nudity and sexual nudity. We are born anatomically nude but once we grow into sexual beings, there are phenomena like power and shame that all of a sudden cling to this body. It is one of those tensions that I try to investigate through my photography: When does nudity become sexual? 

Showing your skin is simultaneously vulnerable and powerful. The nude self has a connotation of softness and intimacy, but it is also a very universal statement to be naked; everybody has a body after all. Also I find it the ultimate powerful surrender: “here I am, you’ve seen it all, now you’ve got nothing on me anymore.” Once you’ve shown your most vulnerable side, there is complete openness and honesty, and this is incredibly potent. It is my body and people can look at it but it gives me a sense of ownership of it as well.”


TEMA: What does it mean to have a body in the 21st century?

Anne Linde: The body obviously can’t be disconnected from the brain; the brain extends into the body through the spinal cord and receives information by grace of the body; without the body, the brain would be useless (I think). In the digital age there is this idea of living in a metaverse. People dream of having an avatar body, or downloading their brain onto a chip. So you might not need a body to exist anymore. It becomes a redundant thing; something you’d rather get rid of. A vulnerable piece of flesh that is susceptible to disease, viruses etc. The body becomes a burden. I really dislike that idea because I find that the body has so much grace and wisdom that we are not conscious of. Sensory processes, that operate to a very large extent on ‘auto pilot’, are so deeply embedded in the body that you couldn’t even extricate them. If we didn't have a body anymore, we would miss all this information and these processes deeply. 

Take for example the human skin: it is this big receptive organ, this membrane through which a lot of information reaches the body, in an unaware, subconscious or reflexive state. I wouldn’t know how you could manage to exist without your senses - and you couldn’t have your senses without a body. What would you even be without a body? We don’t even fully know what consciousness is or where it resides or how awareness works! I don’t believe in a Descartian dualistic division of the Body and the Mind (or consciousness). If you believe in the concept of the soul, one must have a body to weigh down the mind, to give us the solidity that is necessary to have concrete experiences. Were it not for our bodies, we would probably just float around; experience no friction or polarity.”


TEMA: Is there even such a thing as ‘a normal body’?

Anne Linde: Each body is normal because everything that we consider abnormal is actually part of normal existence. Even if you are sick or disabled, that is all quite normal in the larger picture, even though it is not the standard of what a ‘normal body’ apparently should look or be like. 

Presently I see so much discourse about ethnicity, gender, sexuality etc. and I think it is great that there is so much openness growing in this area. Many topics that were taboo before are now being discussed. But at the same time I find it complicated because for me the deeper topics that we are ultimately concerned with are mutual respect, curiosity and openness. We all want those values; whether we are dark or light of skin, whether male or female. Sometimes I worry about the polarisation that is taking place in this era. By labeling subgroups and minorities, you give them names and definitions. But you also set them apart from the ‘rest’. In the end, we all want to belong. That's the deepest longing I think - belonging. 

These topics and polarised discussions might create distance between people and create a fear of being curious. There are many unwritten rules; things you can't say or ask anymore, talking about certain subjects I often find myself feeling as if I'm on a field of landmines. The danger in this is that it heightens the threshold of having an open conversation with someone who is different from you. Don’t get me wrong, I believe it is important that these conversations are being held but in some ways they also complicate matters or even worsen some conversations for the time being. In the end, what we long for is being respected and acknowledged as equals - and to have an open discourse with people. In light of the concept of normality, I don’t think anyone is normal but at the same time we are all normal.


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